Shattered
by sophiesix
Summary: Chet Diaz is planning revenge; Flame and Jackson must stop him. How many lives will be shattered? Follows Footprints in the snow T plus: language violence
1. Chapter 1

**Shattered**

*****

_Chet Diaz is planning reveng; Flame and Jackson must stop him. How many lives will be shattered? _

_Follows Footprints in the snow_

_*_

AN: this one seems incredibly disjointed to me. I'm thinking of taking Sarah's POV out entirely. Let me know what you think?

* * *

**Sarah**

*****

"Munro Diaz, I know you are there. I may be crazy but I'm not stupid," Sarah Turner said, not looking up from where she sat, leaning on a roof post on the porch, "Would you stop being creepy and get out of the bushes?"

She listened to her mother putting the little ones to bed as Munro extricated himself from the darkness of the bushes, his ears burning, and moved into the light.

"Don't seem crazy to me," he said eventually, letting his gaze meet hers directly for just about the first time ever.

"_You_ are not a comforter," she replied.

"Yeah."

They grinned at each other, sharing the complicity of the underdog.

"If you're looking for Lily, you're a bit slow."

"No, I know she's gone." He paused awkwardly.

"So you were looking at me then," Sarah prompted.

"Sort of. I guess."

She waited, but he had said all he was going to voluntarily say on that matter.

"You wanna tell me why?"

He shrugged. She stretched her legs out in front of her on the weathered wood, examining her scarred knees.

"Coz if you were planning on kidnapping me, I think Mum'd like some notice first."

He smiled at bit sheepishly. She was pleased to have got his smile back. She liked what it did to him; it changed his face entirely. It made her wonder what he would have been like before all of this had happened. If the Souls hadn't come.

But they had come. There was no changing that. There was no changing anything.

"Have you heard from Lily?" she asked quietly.

The smile passed.

"I saw her, but I didn't talk to her," he muttered, "She's got her own life now." She frowned to see the hurt Lily still caused in him.

"What about you?" she said as if it didn't matter much at all.

He shrugged and looked into the darkness. "Maybe I've got an appointment with the cold storage centre." Kidnap, holding someone against their will; these were charges that could attract a storage penalty.

She was silent, feeling the deepness of the night around them like they were the only two left.

But as it turned out, Munro was spared cold storage.

"Exile!" Sarah spat in disbelief and fury, "But you didn't even hurt him!" In the weeks she that had come to know him, she had realized he was not like the other Soul-free zone flotsam. He wasn't the hurting type, unless he was cornered. It still amazed her that Lily had let him go for her gutless Alasdair. It seemed to Sarah that Munro was pretty much as close to perfect as you got in this world.

"Doesn't matter," he said, staring vacantly through her, as if nothing mattered.

"Apparently not," she muttered, looking for somewhere more useful to channel her rage. She grabbed his hand and led him at a run through the streets.

"Where are we going?" he panted eventually.

_Away_, she wanted to say, but knew from experience you could never quite get there.

She stopped when they got to the river, pushing through the dense undergrowth in the section they let grow wild, until the flowing water materialized at their feet. The water never stopped, and she found this comforting. At least something could get away. She sat heavily in the undergrowth, pulling him down next to her, but keeping her eyes on the hazy reflections in the water. He didn't let go her hand, and they sat in silence, losing themselves in the other world in the reflections, where things had no definite edges, and nothing was as solid and unmovable as an exile date. At length he shook her hand free.

"I have to go," he sighed," The Seekers like to know where I am." She listened to him crashing back through the bushes til there was no sound of him at all. Then she listened to that silence, and felt an echoing silence in her heart.

***

Sarah sat on the verandah as Munro came up the steps. She put a finger to her lips and beckoned him over. And they sat side by side in the glow from the window pane, listening to Margie and Kim fight.

"She's barely 16!"

"She's packed a lot into 16. She knows what she wants, and it isn't here. Don't you remember 16?"

"I sure do, that's exactly my point."

"He makes her smile. Do you know how long it has been since she's smiled? No one has been able to do that in years. _Years_. What will keeping her here do?"

Sarah turned to him, a shy smile on her normally defiant face, and his face had never been more serious.

"I'm coming with you," she whispered. His hand sought hers out and gripped it tight, his eyes digging deeper into hers. She pulled his hand closer and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him like she'd wanted to for a long time, and his hand came to rest just below her arm, holding her side like it was made of glass.

"Don't you go getting shy on me now, boy" she whispered, pressing herself into him, slipping a hand between his thighs. And he kissed her back like she was what he had wanted all along.


	2. Flame

**Flame**

*****

"How's the holiday going?"

"Fine... til you called," I walked away from the others so Alex didn't overhear. I was supposed to be on holiday, finally visiting Bhask and Maddy, and that didn't involve talking to Jackson.

"Munro's neighbor dropped off his mail. Didn't know what to do with it now he's gone. Not like he has a forwarding address.

"I'm thrilled. You called me for this?"

"Thought you might be interested in one of them: a post card from Chet Diaz," Jackson said, "picture of a city on the front."

"It can't be. He was exiled ages ago. He can't get into the cities." _But he was in the city,_ I thought, filling with dread. "What's the post code?" _He was in Maddy's city_. "That's bad. That's right in the city. Right here."

"That's what I thought," Jackson replied, "He could have got someone else to post to pots it but… it stinks. I'm coming down there."

"What??" I looked around quickly, but no one had noticed my outburst. I went on more quietly, "What about the local Seekers?"

"You gonna trust the local guys?" Jackson said dryly, "How many Soul attacks have there been in an average month there compared to here?"

"I think there maybe a few more factors at play down here"

"Like they don't have human Seekers yet. Something I think might play a rather large part in their amazing lack of progress in these types of cases."

I groaned internally. There was no stopping him.

"Do me a favour?" Jackson said after a pause, "Don't tell Alex a word of this?"

"Jackson..."

"Flame…"

"He is not involved." It was an old argument.

"So he's just on holiday is he? Can you tell me what he's really doing?"

My silence told him all he needed to know.

"You can't, can you. Didn't think so. Let's just play it safe for the moment. Where are you staying?"

I gave him Bhask and Maddy's address, reminding myself to make sure Dorsey kept an eye out for him. Couldn't have Jackson run into Blackheath, even if only accidentally.

"See you in a couple of days."

"Wait – how's Beebe?"

Beebe had undergone multiple insertions into Hawthorne's fighter, Daniel. He was taking a break before the next round, and I worried what it was doing to him. But the information that he was getting from Daniel, albeit slowly, was unparalleled. I just hoped it didn't do Beebe any long term damage. As for Daniel… I tried to tell myself he had chosen this path. Well, forced us to choose it for him anyway. _Still_, a voice whispered inside me, _no one can really force you to do anything…_

"He's doing ok," Jackson replied.

"Good. Well, see ya." I knew that's as much as I would get from Jackson. It was probably a verbatim of the conversation he'd had with Beebe.

"_So. How're you doing?"_

"_Ok."_

And that would be that. Done.

Montgomery was the one to go to for details. I remembered bursting out at Montgomery the first time Beebe had deimplanted.

"Someone should be with him, he shouldn't just… be alone," I'd fretted.

"He doesn't live alone, you know that right?" Montgomery had explained, finally.

"He doesn't?"

"He has a partner. It was a sort of an on and off thing, but now they seem pretty… steady."

"Oh. Oh good."

Maddy interrupted my thoughts.

"The guys have run off to see the Harlequins, they're starting any minute," she said as I looked around for the others, "Oh, ok, maybe five minutes ago."

"Lead the way," I replied, trying to catch her eye. But she looked away and led me off in pursuit. We'd come down to the harbour for a jazz festival, and the place was packed. We edged our way through the crowd at a snail's pace, and I desperately tried to think of conversation to get Maddy to talk to me. But her curiosity got the better of her and she beat me to it.

"Who was it?" she asked, turning her head slightly but still not really looking at me.

"Jackson, my partner," I replied, and she nodded quickly and sped up to take advantage of a gap in the crowd. I followed, frustrated. Maddy always seemed kind of nervous to me. I couldn't seem to connect with her. Because I was a Soul or because I was practically her mother-in-law?

Finally I could see them; Yash sitting on Alex's shoulders like a beacon in the mob, the syncopated beats of the jazz group filling the air and reducing conversation to shouted monosyllables. But no one was there to talk; everyone stood entranced by the music. Dorsey had already started to jig in time, unconsciously. I listened with half an ear, gazing at Yash and Alex together, thinking how she was almost too tall for sitting on his shoulders now. Alex turned to me and smiled, and I took his proffered hand and joined them.


	3. Blackheath

**Blackheath**

*****

Blackheath stared at the empty pillow beside him, his arm flung across the empty space in the bed, trying uselessly to fill it. Dorsey had gone to see her sister in the city. Where he could not follow. Apparently they wouldn't be coming to see him anymore. He could live with that, only it meant Dorsey had to go to them. And he couldn't follow. Not openly, anyway. And Dorsey wanted to see her family openly. He turned over in frustration, glaring at the wall in the dim moonlight.

With Dorsey in his arms, his cause was just and his means justifiable. But alone, death crept from the shallow graves he had sent it to and gathered in the dark corners of his mind. Sometimes they crept out into dark corners elsewhere too, when Dorsey wasn't there to fill his world like some kind of flare, chasing away the dark.

How many deaths had he been responsible for now? How many could he have saved?

He tried to concentrate on Alex's news. It was his same old game: creating communication. Alex wanted to see how much interest there was in brokering a ceasefire. A temporary one, at least. Blackheath was tempted by the idea.

"We need it to plan for the future, organize ourselves. It would give us time to regroup," he had reasoned as Ally stormed around the breakfast table slapping their stores into her preferred order in the cupboards. Ally was vehemently opposed. The humans were finally getting organized, and taking advantage of the fact to organize coordinated peace day counter-actions.

"You can't _not_ be a part of the peace day celebrations," she insisted, "If this ceasefire falls through… we'll be totally out in the cold."

He knew she was right. As nonsensical as it seemed, he would have to do both.


	4. 4 Flame

**Flame**

*****

"Jackson's here, Flame!" Dorsey shouted, looking out the kitchen window.

"You have got to be frikkin kidding me," Alex breathed, storming up behind her and glaring at Jackson, who waved back from his seat on the car bonnet with all the innocence of a comic book villain, "What the hell is he doing here? I thought you were on holiday?"

"I am," I said, pulling my swimmer's strap back up onto my shoulder, and making for the door, "Something came up. Just give me a second."

"Flame..." he growled.

"Please. Just a second. I'll be right back. Promise."

"Chet Diaz is attached to a group headed by a guy called Sanderson," Jackson said as soon as I was in ear shot. _Hello to you too_, I thought, _welcome to my holiday. How's it going? Great_. "I'm guessing Munro would have headed for him. I'm going to follow that trail, see where it leads."

"You don't mean going into the Soul-free zone."

"What, you going to go instead? You got business there or something?"

"I couldn't be happier if I never ever went near another one."

"That's what I thought. So, me then."

"It's too dangerous-"

"No one will suspect a thing. They don't have human Seekers here, remember?"

I glared at the ground. Jackson was impossible when he was being impossible. And he was being impossible, I could tell by the confident tilt to his eyebrows.

"I'm going to look for this Sanderson group; you keep an eye out at this end."

"Fine."

"Unless you have to accompany Alex in some top secret business in the Soul-free zone…?"

"I told you, he's not involved with that stuff," I gave me my best glare, but he wasn't put off. He eyed me like he was weighing things up in his mind.

"Don't stick up for him Flame. He's not worth it."

_What the hell would you know_? I thought, but bit it back. "Just Stay Out Of it, Jackson," I muttered furiously. Jackson spun around in irritation, as if he was going to leave it at that despite himself, but then came directly back at me, stiff with anger.

"You ever think the reason was so frikkin _sad _after the arctic was because he got left behind? Maybe it's Hawthorne he loves, not you. Maybe that's why he fucking turns into an icicle when you touch him."

"You shut up." My voice was so icy it would have frozen lava. It cut him short; a hint of fear in his eyes. But the damage was done. I couldn't believe it, but I couldn't forget it. The way he reacted to her name, it was automatic, it was visceral, and it wasn't hatred…

"He was tied up," I whispered, trying to sound convinced, but it came out more akin to a whimper, a bleat.

"We all know she's psycho. Maybe it's their idea of a good time…"

"Shut up Shut up Shut up!" I pressed my hands over my ears and squeezed my eyes shut, but couldn't escape the image of them together. It was better to stare at the pavement. I walked away as fast as I could, keeping my hands over my ears. I realised belatedly I was not going to be right back as I had promised. But promises to Alex seemed half-baked things now.

I tried to get clear in my mind what Alex was like straight after we had stormed the base, but it was riddled with my own worries and fears. He was upset, was all I could pin down. Not good enough. Upset could mean anything. And since then, I couldn't remember him once having said he loved me… And _before_, he had given up Icefire's pendant… I ran down to the beach and shed my shorts and top, diving into the salty coldness, feeling its endless energy whirling around me, wishing I could let it clean out my head. I knew why Bhask and Maddy had settled here; the ocean was a perfect escape. In its grasp you were in another world, and no one could touch you.

***

"Spill," Dorsey whispered, having dragged me over to take our turn with the dishes while the others settled into a noisy board game. I brushed endless circles of foam into the dish til she grabbed my hands with a sigh of exasperation and pushed the tea towel into them, taking over the washing. Drying had a definite end point.

"Come on, out with it," she muttered.

"Do you think Alex is… different?" I said finally.

She looked at me like she was wondering what planet I was on now.

"Of course he's different. You don't get taken hostage by psychos and not come out different."

"But… to me."

"What do you mean."

"He's… maybe, colder? Distant? I don't know. I don't know what happened to him up there."

She looked at me like she had a fairly good idea.

"Has... has he said anything?"

She shook her head.

"I'm not sure he's… interested in me," I said softly.

"Oh, come on. Not interested in you? That's the biggest bunch of baloney I've ever heard. How can you believe that."

She took the polished dry plate out my hands and swapped it for a wet one. I shrugged. I didn't know how to explain.

"Look. You don't know what happened up there. And people react different to torture. But he loves you. He just does. Even if he is acting weird. Just… take my word for it, ok?"

I nodded, comforted. Dorsey knew him better than Jackson. I should trust her. I should.


	5. 5 Sarah

**Sarah**

*****

The man at the bar was unknown to her, but she could tell he came from home. He walked too tall, his clothes were too clean, he was too well-fed, and though he was no Soul-born, he was too confident, too polite. You could tell he didn't live under the weight of the invasion. He didn't fit in.

Sarah fit in. But she listened to what he wanted as he talked to the man on the other side of her, staring at her beer, melting under ceiling fans that had not moved since the invasion. She busied herself pretending she wasn't listening. Most of the bar was doing the same. He said he had news of Lily Provis. That she was sick. He was looking for Munro. Or his brother, Chet. His words seemed genuine. They rang in her mind, _Munro, or his brother, Chet_. She contemplated talking to him.

The problem was, Munro might try and go see Lily. And she didn't yet know if she wanted him to go or not. The problem, in a nutshell, was Chet. _Munro, or his brother, Chet._

Chet was a guy going places. Munro would go nowhere fast, here. He was too much of a nice guy. Chet made no pretence of that. She couldn't deny being drawn to his success. But neither could she deny being repelled by it too. He scared her, if she was honest to herself. She knew he would not be the type to let her go, once he got her. It would never be her decision again. So she had to decide real carefully now.

Sarah had never been to the South Soul-free zone, let alone the Southern. The reality of it had hit her hard, and she could feel herself rearranging inside to compensate. She had lived in the comfort of the mixed cities for too long, but she had grown up on the run, in places like this. It would not take long to readjust, she told herself. She was used to having to fit in, searching unconsciously for the unwritten rules of any situation. At least this place she agreed with some of the rules. At least it had an honesty to it. It should be easier to bend to this place than to yield to the half-baked propaganda of the Souls.

But Munro seemed like a piece of metal that had had to bend back and forth one too many times, and had weakened with the effort, like one more bend would snap it in half. She had hoped they could bend slowly, and he wouldn't snap.

It had taken some weeks to find him, but Munro had finally stood in front of his brother. Chet looked older, harder, rougher, to him, and he'd started off older, harder and rougher to begin with.

"This ain't Lily," Chet said, looking Sarah up and down, trying to fit her into the Lily of his memories and failing.

"This is Sarah," Munro replied, "Lily… she's with someone else now."

"Bitch did that to me I would have snapped her fucking neck," Chet growled, cracking open a can as if in demonstration. Munro's eyes were fixed on the ring pull as if it really were a vertebra of Lily's.

"Well, he did kidnap the guy and leave him tied up for a week in an abandoned factory," Sarah mentioned, meeting Chet's eye, when the pause got too long. Chet looked up at him, startled.

"Really ? You did?"

Munro nodded silently. Chet grinned and punched his arm, "My little brother, growing up at last."

Neither of them had mentioned he was a Soul. Souls were cannon fodder here. Fertiliser. She was still getting used to that.

The man finished his beer and left, and Sarah made no move to stop him.


	6. 6 Jackson

**Jackson**

*****

Clouds darkened the late afternoon sky a sickly green grey, and the humidity was unbearable. Sweat dripped off him like the rain had already begun. He paced the bank of the wan looking river, thinly covering the rocks beneath, waiting. The houses beside it were empty, hollow with abandonment, slowly falling to pieces. The gardens grew wild with weeds where the grass had died after the first summer without being watered. No one lived here anymore. No one lived anywhere that couldn't be defended, if they could help it. In the absence of law, the strongest ruled, and there was fierce competition over who could claim that title. It did no good to be caught in the open.

Jackson found people wary here, and understood they would only meet him where and when they felt safe. He waited for his rendezvous patiently, expecting that they would be watching him, weighing up how dangerous he was. He tried to look innocuous, wandering aimlessly by the feeble-looking river, thinking.

He knew Alex was involved somehow. You didn't go hang out with Kimberley humans without contacts. And Flame sure wasn't going to have the right contacts. And now they were living in the same postcode Chet had sent the postcard from. He knew Flame couldn't betray Alex, and what's more he believed her when she said he was innocent. That is, he believed that's what she believed. But she was a Soul, after all, and in love with him, despite good reasons not to be. He could hardly trust her judgment. Alex had to be involved in Soul-free zone business somehow, but he knew he couldn't press Flame for the details. If anything, he'd prefer to keep her out of it, if he could.

"You should be careful what you ask for," a voice behind him said as he felt a fist slam into his kidneys, "you just might get it."

But when he looked at the face, it wasn't Chet. Maybe he was supposed to believe it was Chet. Maybe it was some kind of test, to see if he really knew them. But the punches came so hard and fast and monotonously that he soon realized they weren't interested in his responses. All they seemed interested in was bashing the crap out of him.

The noise of distant, crazy drums began and grew loudly, then the fist blows were replaced by hailstones. His attackers sprang under cover, and Jackson lay as if dead in the freezing mud of the riverbank. It was painful just to breath, and his head felt as heavy as lead, so not moving was not a problem. He let the hail pummel him too. _One in all in_, he thought.

"Finish it later," he heard the leader grunt, and they disappeared.

Jackson waited til his courage was screwed all the way in, then under the cover of the hail and the fading light, he crawled into the nearest building. He collapsed into a cupboard, evicting a family of mice as he fell. He listened until the hail turned to rain, then gave in to the darkness.

***

A hand on his shoulder roused him, and he went to jerk out of its grasp but was frozen by the pain. The hand stayed gentle on his arm, and he waited til his eyes adapted to the darkness. The darkness stayed uniformly black. And the rain was still falling relentlessly.

"You said you were looking for Diaz?" a voice said, quietly, at the right distance to be attached to the arm.

"Yeah," he muttered eventually, wary this time.

"He went to the city."

"I know," he said, not thinking straight through the pain. His head felt like it was under an enormous weight. "I don't know where though."

"He went to find Maddy."

"Maddy?" Why was that name familiar…

"My cousin. Madison."

"Maddy!" he whispered; _Bhask_'s Maddy. The coincidence was too much. Alex had to be involved. Bhask was being played.

"You know her?"

He shook his head carefully, trying to avoid the pain, then realized she probably couldn't see.

"No."

"But you've seen her?"

"No."

The hand left his arm.

"Sorry," he added softly. "You're worried about her."

"Maddy left him. Chet. He didn't take it well," she said eventually, and he could hear the worry in her voice.

"Does she know he's after her?"

"I don't know." The worry had deepened into scarcely disguised misery.

"I could let her know, if I could tell her the news came from a name she could trust."

"Melissa Brown," came the eventual answer.

"Well Miss Brown, just as soon as I get out of here-"

"You're not going nowhere tonight. They'll be watching for you. And the roads are mud."

"What do you suggest I do then." The idea of not moving was very appealing. Moving was unappealingly painful.

"Wait here."

He heard her leave, then return with a can stuffed full of half melted hail. "I'll bring you some more when I can."

He heard her once more in the night, dragging something into the building, recognizing her quick, light footsteps running away. He listened as a roar of water grew louder, and realized the river must be flooding. He listened for the rain, straining, but it was gone.

He drank the can of melt water at dawn, not realizing that nothing more would come til nighfall. Except the men. He heard them hunting around outside and stilled instinctually, as if they weren't separated by the walls of the house. His eyes rested on the only thing in the room, what the girl had dragged in last night. It was a dead dog. Only now the room was half full of water, and the dog was half submerged, its tail floating, pointing at the doorway, where the water deepened towards the corridor. The morning sunlight diffused into the house making the water shine faintly like silver, completely flat and still.

"Crawled off into a hole and died by the looks," one of the men muttered on the other side of the wall, and Jackson had to stop himself looking to see if they were peering through the window.

"Maybe the river got him," another said, and he realized they weren't talking about the dog. They were still looking for him. He could still hear the river roaring, fainter now there were daytime sounds over it. He tried to match this menacing sound to the sickly thing he had seen the day before, and couldn't.

His thirst grew as the day drew on, the sun strong through the boarded window, the heat rising with the dog's stink. He glared at it fouling the water that lapped so close. He was on the verge of drinking it anyway when the girl came back, tiptoeing through the flood water that reached her shins in the corridor.

In the day she was younger than he had thought, wiry rather than skinny, and deeply tanned beneath her grimy tank top.

"Nut Brown," he murmured, and she glanced at him sharply, almost angrily, hesitating before she handed him another can of water.

"The river's cut the road," she said as he drank, "You'll have to wait a few days. But the roads should be dry by then."

"What's a girl like you doing in a place this," he whispered, and got another sharp look.

"You haven't been drinking that water have you?"

"The dog water?" he smiled, "what did you do that for. Poor dog."

"Dog was already dead. It's your cover. Flood won't last long." She watched him a while longer then moved over and felt his forehead, avoiding the bruises, her hand lingering like she couldn't be sure.

"What's the matter, nurse? Can't tell if I'm crazy or not?"

"Girls like me are a dime a dozen here," she muttered, moving back to her seat on the floor, just out of reach. He didn't reply.

But by nightfall there was no doubt he had a fever. He didn't even notice her arrive. When her cooling water trickled down his face he thought at first it was raining.

"Raindrops keep falling on my head," he sang softly, but his burning skin had evaporated them already.

"You are an odd one, aren't you," she said, equally softly. But she sat with him for a while anyway.

"My name's not really Melissa you know," her voice came to him through shrouds of cloying fever.

"Now how could I know that?"

"It's Jai."

"No it's not," he said as if he could see through her riddles. "It's Nut Brown. You are nut brown."

"And you are really sick. They hit you hard, huh?"

"Am I offending you? I've been told I am offensive."

"No."

He liked her better in the dark, without the sharpness of her glances. Her voice sounded softer without them, and he could imagine her to be his own age, and interested.

"I wish Maddy was here. She's the one with the healing skills. I'm…"

_Nut Brown_, he thought dreamily.

"Takes more than that to get a tough old bastard like me down. I'll be right in a minute. Just need a bit of rest." He drifted away for a while and when he came to, it was still dark, and she was still there.

"Not much happens round here, huh?" he said.

"You live in the city?" she asked.

"Wouldn't live anywhere else, sweetheart."

"What's it like, your place?"

"Oh it's wonderful. There's coffee on tap. You should come over for a drink sometime. Repay your hospitality. I'll even see if I can find a dog." He wondered if she was smiling. Or scowling. He imagined her smiling.

"Have you got a television?"

"Uh, yeah. Don't watch it much though."

"Why not?"

"Soul television is soul destroying," he chuckled, "To humans anyway. But you can get movies."

"Our movies?"

"Yeah. They didn't destroy everything. You can shut yourself up in your apartment at night and watch movies and eat pie and pretend they never invaded."

"Who decides what movie you watch?"

"Well, me."

"What if the others don't want to?"

"What others?"

There was a long silence.

"You don't live with any others?" it sounded like the concept was completely foreign to her.

"Nup. I sleep in my own bed in my own room in my own apartment, and there's not a single other person in all of that," he said contentedly, then wondered if it sounded lonely to her.

"That sounds wonderful," she whispered.

"Told you."

***

He knew when he was getting better because the smell of the dog got through to him. A breeze lifted the cloying smell over to him when she opened the door.

"Jesus Christ, how can you stand that?" he groaned.

"You're the one that's living with it," she answered straight back.

"Not anymore."

The river was hardly audible. The roads must be dry by now. He stood with difficulty, resting a moment, having underestimated the painfulness of his ribs. She watched him, frowning, but said nothing.

"I am out of here," he said, "Really. Any minute now." He rested a minute more then went for the door.

"You might want to wait for full dark," she spoke up at last, and he sank down the wall, grateful for the excuse to rest his ribs an hour or two longer. He stretched out carefully, finding a position where they had to hold up the least amount of weight possible. When the darkness was deep enough she woke him a gentle shake of his shoulder. He got up carefully stiffly, but it was manageable.

"You haven't forgotten about Maddy?" she asked, worry biting at her words again.

"Course not."

She led him slowly to where the others had moved the car. He stood there looking at it, still getting used to the feeling of walking, staying upright, expecting his ribs to carry weight, and balance him on top of his legs.

"Fuck," he muttered.

"What?"

"No keys."

"No problem."

She had hotwired it in under a minute. He supposed that was a life skill here. The seat relieved him a little of the need to balance, but the thought of driving the rough potholed roads back to the city galled him. But there was nothing for it. He had tried, and he had not found the Diaz's. What else could he do? He put the car into gear and drove off.

In the rear view mirror, he saw that she watched him for a long time, then went into the bar.

He suppose he should have left. He should have gone back to his side of the border, maybe got his ribs and his head checked out. It would be the logical thing to do. But Jackson preferred to follow his gut. And his gut said to follow the Nut. He parked under a tree in bad need of pruning that hid the car nicely, found his spare bottle of No Pain still taped under the seat, and went back.

He waited in the shadows at the back of the building, sneaking a look around the corner whenever the door creaked open, ignoring the instant couples ducking up the back for a quick fuck, the hard drunks vomiting into a corner and curling up for the night. He was about to conclude he'd somehow missed her, when the door creak was followed by her trademark quick, light step. He'd know it anywhere. Keeping to the shadows, he eased after her.

She headed up a track into the hills, and was about to slip in between a cleft between two limestone boulders when a hand shot out and grabbed her shoulder.

"Where you been, bitch?"

She staggered under his hold and the man was drawn into the moonlight. Jackson realized with a shot of adrenaline that he was looking at Sanderson himself.

"Where you think?" she swayed towards him and he jerked away from her breath. Jackson could have sworn she hadn't swayed once the whole jog up the mountain.

"Fucking drunken whore. What damn use are you like that," Sanderson said, tightening his grip so she buckled at the knees.

"Just as useful as you want me to be, sweetheart," she said, slightly out of breath but still managing to slur a little.

"Go sleep it off," he spat, shoving her towards the cleft, and she disappeared. Sanderson settled back, leaning onto the boulder, so still he seemed almost to become a part of it. Waiting for something? Or did he check all his people as they came home. He must be waiting for something. Jackson settled silently into the bushes to wait too.

Another hour passed before anyone else came. This time they came from the other end of the track, where it continued past the boulders. Two people, walking carefully, carrying six backpacks on a pole between them. Sanderson inspected each one.

"Good," he grunted, "Get one of them to Chet. The rest to Blackheath."

Jackson was willing to bet those packs did not contain school books. He followed them silently at a safe distance. The carters put down their load about half way down, where a creek flowed close to the trail. Jackson crept closer, opened the bags, and swore beneath his breath.


	7. 7 Sarah

**Sarah**

*****

She had thought Munro would be the first to snap, but tuned out she was wrong. That day, there'd been an air of anticipation, of tension in the camp. Chet was coming back. Though she didn't know him well, Sarah found herself affected too, wound up, buzzing, lightheaded, as if it were infectious.

"I brought us back a prize, Uncle," Chet's voice was chillingly pleased.

"Now how on earth is that of use to me?" Sanderson replied. Sarah came out into the main clearing and saw Chet standing over a woman, a Soul, and Sanderson standing arms folded nearby, watching him.

"Practice for your boys," Chet replied, and Sarah went to shout, to run up to him, to do something to stop it happening, but Munro grabbed her instantly and pulled her away.

"You're going to have to toughen up if you want to fit in here, lovey," Sanderson called after them. Sarah bridled but Munro kept pulling her away, walking her through the eucalypt forests to let the sharp peppermint sap smell clear her head.

"I don't _want_ to fit in," she said quietly but fiercely, decided suddenly, "I don't like it here."

Munro looked at her intently then looked away.

"Neither do you," she pressed.

"What are we going to do then," he replied.

"Apply for a pardon. They say you can live in a trial area now, like probation. Prove yourself."

"Bloody refugee camp," he muttered. She went to protest and he stopped her, "Chet will get us right into the city."

How could she explain that this wouldn't be far enough away from Chet for her. Nowhere would be far enough away from Cher for her.

"Sar, he's my brother. He's for life."

_He's a life sentence, more like_, she thought. She could see he disliked the concept almost as much as her. But it was inescapable. Chet was untouchable. He would probably live forever. Munro had seen the closest he had ever come to death: someone had hit his head with a metal pipe half a dozen times before they were pulled off him: Chet had slept for a day and woke up like he'd just had a big night at the bar. That was it. He had a skull like granite.

"If only he thought we were dead…" Sarah murmured, and he could see her thinking, searching for a way out.

"He's planning something for peace day, isn't he?" she said finally, clutching at his arm like she almost had something "Something big."

"Stay out of it. I don't want you involved," Munro said grimly.

"Don't you see? We could be free of him!" Sarah's desperately hopeful eyes held him, "If he thinks he got caught up in it… if he thinks we're dead."

Munro didn't smile, but he nodded. That was enough for her.


	8. 8 Flame

**Flame**

*****

The southern summer sun was doing wonders for Alex. Each day was warm before we awoke, and he seemed to be thawing a little with every sultry dawn.

Maddy was taking us to her favourite beach, deep with the National Park at the Heads of the harbour. It was a stunningly wild deserted beach, a crack of sand between towering cliffs, nothing but us and the waves.

Maddy dropped her load and grinned at the sky, arms wide, walking backwards to encompass all of it, "Isn't it wonderful?" she shouted, the happiest I'd seen her since we arrived, "Nothing can touch you out here. There's nothing and no one between here and Antarctica."

"Well that's not exactly true," Bhask said, walking in her exact footsteps though the sand, and they argued good-naturedly all the way down the beach.

"They're so happy they make me sick," Dorsey sighed, spreading out her towel.

Alex raced Yash into the waves. I watched him, doubting. Hating that I doubted, but doubting still.

"What's with the funny Alex looks?" Dorsey asked.

"Nothing," I shrugged.

"Don't make me hurt you."

I couldn't help but smile. Dorsey's idea of hurting me was nagging me to death. But it was still a bad way to go.

"It's just that…" I didn't want to say it out loud, as if it would make it somehow more real. "Maybe he… likes Hawthorne. Maybe he misses her."

Dorsey slapped her head in disbelief. I got the idea she would have liked to have slapped mine.

"How on earth did you think of that?"

I muttered something about Jackson.

"Jackson," she muttered, narrowing her eyes, "Jackson has the most appalling imagination. He's a freaking nut. Why do you believe him? He's a Seeker; you know Seekers can't possibly tell the truth."

I gave her a look. She was trying to make me laugh. I'd never felt less like laughing.

"It just sort of explains a lot," I mumbled.

"No, it doesn't. Alex!"

I grabbed her miles too late, and he was already walking towards us, leaving Yash to build and demolish her sandcastle herself.

"You bitch," I hissed.

"You need therapy," she replied, 'you're cooked."

"Alex, how much do you like Flame?"

He stared back and forth between us, trying to work out her game.

"Uh, a lot?"

"Yah, but _how_ much?"

"Dorsey, stop it, this is silly," I muttered.

"Silly is her middle name," Alex murmured back.

I felt stupidly cut that he thought it was silly too.

"Ooh, I don't know, you might be right Flame, he might just be getting bored of you."

Alex's eyebrows raised in a gesture I knew meant he'd been pushed too far. Dorsey began to laugh before he'd even laid a hand on me. He went to pick me up but I stretched out of his arms and he had to be content with leading me down to the water and towing me through the surf.

"Careful Flame, people drown unwanted kittens round here!" Dorsey called after us, still relaxing on the beach.

"Good thing I'm not a cat!" I called back, almost keeping the nervousness out of my voice. Alex glanced at my uneasy eyes.

"I'm getting you away from that bad influence," he muttered, pulling my arms around his neck and making for the tiny island just around the point. The water deepened to a navy blue around us then the sea bed rose up shallower til I could haul myself onto the rocky island and let the sun warm up my muscles again. Alex stayed at the surface, treading water, and holding my feet.

"What is this all about?" he asked quietly.

I stared into his eyes and doubted my doubts, but knew he would not be happy with a glib answer. But I couldn't come up with anything between there and the truth. I stared at my knees awkwardly, feeling my cheeks burn, and his hands began to massage up my calves.

"You think I'm not interested in you anymore," he said, watching me intently.

_Damn you Dorsey_, I thought, looking at the horizon in humiliation, _can you not keep one little thing to yourself_?

"You have no frikkin idea how wrong you are," he said quietly.

"So you're going to tell me, are you?"

"Nope."

His hands had reached my thighs, and then I understood. He was going to show me.

But afterwards, even as we lay on the rocks, his chest cupped to my back, and I stared at the endless tip and slide of the ocean, I felt him becoming distant again, withdrawing. He's just tired, I told myself. And the swim back isn't exactly going to help.

Dorsey was waiting for us on the beach, and I let Alex walk ahead, undisturbed, while Dorsey fell into step beside me.

"You are going to have the _worst_ sunburn," Dorsey hissed in my ear in frank delight. I smiled silently, and let her think sunburn was the only thing troubling me now.


	9. 9 Sarah

**Sarah**

*****

"This is her place. You keep away from it. I don't want her cover blown. You don't know each other alright? You pass on the street, you keep walking, got it?" Chet murmured, turning to glance at Sarah in the back seat.

"Why did you take us here then," she replied, looking away, gazing at the rows of neat suburban houses in their neat suburban yards with a pang of acrid envy.

"Keep an eye on you. Besides, in case of emergency, it's good to have a back up."

They sat waiting in the blistering heat inside the car, and finally saw the girl, honey blonde hair wild with ocean swimming, shorts showing off her tanned legs.

"I told them I was going for a walk," she whispered, slipping into the car, her eyes downcast, tense. Chet grabbed her hand and squeezed it, but she didn't move. Finally she glanced at him and he indicated the two in the back, letting her get at good look. She nodded.

"Tomorrow, 10 o'clock, in the park, bench by the bushes," Chet grunted, "Ok?"

She nodded, and Sarah saw her looking at Chet, the fear obvious but something else there too. She was leaning towards him ever so slightly. Like she was pulled.

"Ok."

***

"Do you think she'll turn up?" Munro shifted uncomfortably as they waited in the bushes.

"Oh yeah," Chet replied, "She's a _very_ good girl." His voice hummed with satisfaction. And he was right, as always, the girl turning up right on cue, sitting on the bench with her back to them as if she had no idea they were there.

"In three days, a parcel will be put in your car," Chet said quietly, his gaze lingering on the back of her bare neck, "You are to deliver it to the address on the bag."

She nodded without turning.

"What is it?" she said, a hint of dread dragging at her voice. Chet frowned.

"You know better than that, sweetheart," he said, and the displeasure in his voice had made her freeze as though the summer day had evaporated into a endless nuclear winter.

***

The summer evenings were long, so Sarah and Munro had to wait til late for the twilight they need to watch the house unnoticed. But the house was still alive with activity, warm lights shining past the people silhouetted in the windows. The murmur of the ocean's endless wash at their back, they watched these snapshots of family life, and Sarah again felt that envy of this life that she could only look at. Comfort like that was not part of her life any more. Then she recognized the people inside.

"Flame!" Sarah whispered, and Munro nodded. Flame, her husband, her daughter, another woman, and another younger man that looked at Chet's girl like she was his life.

"Damn, she was telling the truth," Munro muttered. Sarah ignored him, focusing on the girl. She seemed happy. She relaxed into the younger man, laughing quietly, and Munro scowled. She guessed he was thinking about Lily, about Alasdair. She could see a little Chet of him in that scowl. But it was plain the girl was happy here. Maybe as happy as Lily was with Alasdair.

"If she doesn't deliver it, he'll have to use us," Sarah whispered, "We have to convince her not to pick it up."

"To disobey Chet? You've got to be kidding. She's under his spell."

"Look at the life she has. What hold could Chet possibly have on her? She just needs a push. She'll listen to you." She grinned at him. They were so close to freedom.


	10. 10 Flame

**Flame**

*****

"That was beautiful, Maddy," Alex said, stacking the dinner plates with Yash's help, "I'm sure going to miss you guys when I head south in a few days."

"Why don't we all go?" Dorsey offered, and I snuck at a glance at her because voice had that too casual tone. But she was gazing at a mark on the table with too much interest to see me.

"But peace day is coming up and-" Bhask started, obviously upset at the idea his guests would leave on the city's greatest day.

"I know," Dorsey replied, "I want to go to the peace day celebrations in Griffin square. They're having a masquerade ball the night before and-"

"They're having fireworks on the harbor here! Beach parties!" Bhask implored, at a loss of how any inland city, even with a masquerade ball, could compare to that.

"Dorsey, do you-" Alex started cautiously but Dorsey interrupted him quickly.

"No," Dorsey replied softly, "But it's Blackheath's territory. I'll just feel safer there." I could see the unease in her eyes as she glanced at him, and the understanding in his.

"They're negotiating a ceasefire!" I exclaimed, suddenly understanding her unease, "Surely no one would engage in attacks now?"

"I know," Dorsey said, frowning in frustration, "I just… Come with me. All of you."

Maddy was looking upset, and took the stack of dishes into the kitchen. Bhask was shaking his head. "That's too close to the Soul-free zone," he murmured so Maddy wouldn't hear. "We have to stay here."

"Well, we don't have to decide anything tonight," I said lightly, hoping to calm the tension that was growing, "Who's for ice cream?"

***

"Sydney is Sanderson's territory," Alex explained to me in bed that night, talking low in my ear on the pillow, the heat his excuse for making sure not a single part of his body touched mine, "Dorsey doesn't trust him. She doesn't want to say anything in front of Maddy-"

"But Maddy ran from them!" I whispered back, indignant, "Ran for her life!"

"I know." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, I'm going with Dorsey, ok? Come to the ball with me. You and Yash. You can't let me go alone."

"I'll go to the ball with you, then I'll drive up the next day and spend peace day with Bhask," I said, turning to look at him in the moonlight. He looked unhappy.

"Tell me there's been a credible threat," I pressed, "Any evidence of a planned attack."

He could give me nothing, and he knew it.

"I've come all this way to see Bhask. I don't want to leave him alone now. We're supposed to celebrating."

He stilled looked uneasy, but made no move to cross the gap between us, meet me half way. As usual, I knew it would up to me, and bitterness made my words harder than they needed to be.

"Look, you keep Yash with you. Ok? It's my final offer."

And I knew from the escape of his sigh in the darkness that he would be settling with that.


	11. 11 Blackheath

**Blackheath**

*****

Blackheath watched the crowd assemble from behind his mask. It was perfect.

The masquerade ball had been organized so that all the masks contained dark glass inside the eye pieces – the point being that souls and humans would not be able to tell each other apart. People could talk without the prejudice of species. That was the idea, anyway. But Blackheath had another use for it entirely.

Everyone being in disguise, he could travel freely through the ball without fear of recognition, mingling with high profile Souls all around him. Security was restricted to a weapons search at the door, but Blackheath, for once, wasn't carrying weapons. He carried a small spray can, hidden in his sleeve, and in his head a list of the costumes he was to target. His people had sat in wait outside the target's houses and relayed what costume they were wearing to Ally, who had in turn compiled a list for him. Now all he had to do was mark each target's hair with the UV spray, invisible to the eye, and all was set for tomorrow.

Though, with any luck, they wouldn't have to use this plan. Tomorrow, he would find out if Sanderson had kept his end of their deal and supplied him with the explosives needed to blow up the dais, where all the important Souls would be at the Peace day celebration. He didn't trust Sanderson, and so was going ahead with Plan A anyway, just in case.

It was ridiculously easy, and he was finished and out before the hall had even filled. So he never saw Alex, Dorsey, Flame and Yash arrive, just that little bit too late.

***

The next day, Blackeath made the drop off point in good time; a deserted homestead deep in the mountains. Picking up his own bag, Blackheath noticed someone had not picked up theirs. He checked the bag for no real reason. Instinct maybe. But the sight inside chilled him like liquid nitrogen.

They were the wrong explosives. Not wrong, he knew instantly. Sanderson never made mistakes like that. But a bag worth of this stuff was enough to blow up a city block. Anyone thinking they were safely beyond the blast radius, all his people, would be minced. Plus hundreds of untargeted mixed citizens wiped out… Sanderson was planning on wiping out the competition and making a name for himself in the bargain. And Blackheath had helped him do it.

He grabbed both bags, ran to grab the car keys, mobile, and drove towards the nearest reception.

Chet had already got his lot delivered. He suddenly knew who his contact was in the city. Maddy. How many other lots were there?

He called Ally's phone as soon as there was a bar of reception on his. She answered straight away.

"We're going back to plan A. Snipers only. Find your targets, fire on signal, and disappear. Got it?"

"Dad, what's going on?"

"Stay there, make sure everything goes ok. Ok? I'm trusting you here."

"Ok."

He thought madly as he rang the others. The timers and primers were internalized. There was no way he could deactivate them. They were built that way, particularly. He could not stop them blowing. And he had to find somewhere to get rid of two city blocks worth in a few hours. It was not long enough to get anywhere where it would blow up unnoticed. _It was not long enough to get anywhere_, he thought furiously. His agonizing frustration evaporated when he thought of the lake, and the wheels shot gravel into the air as the car darted back into the mountains.

With a whole hour to spare, he threw them as hard as he could towards the middle of the lake, and watched them sink. His expected feeling of elation did not appear. It was replaced by a horridly sinking feeling, as he realised too late that this was not a lake. It was a dam.


	12. 12 Jackson

**Jackson**

*****

There was a strange atmosphere in the city, and Jackson struggled to put his finger on it as he drove through the streets. He was still thinking about it as he stopped at a roadblock.

"Sorry sir, no cars along this route today," the attendant said.

"I'm a Seeker," he said, his tone off hand, still thinking. There was something he was missing…

The Soul scrutinized his ID carefully, never having seen a human Seeker.

"I'm afraid it doesn't matter. Peace day rally."

_Fuck_! Peace day already – he'd lost track of the days. _Today_. He had no time.

"Flame! Where's Maddy?" he said, holding his phone with his shoulder.

"Jackson! Uh, She's right here. No: she went home to get something…"

He spun the car around to make for their address.

"Jackson, what's going on?"

"Get back there as quickly as you can. Stay away from the rally. They're planning on blowing it up."


	13. 13 Flame

**Flame**

*****

Bhask waited for her to pick up, sick with impatience and dread.

"Maddy!" his said finally, voice strained to cracking. "Where are you?"

"Maddy no!" he grabbed my hand and ran even as he tried to talk her out of it, but she'd hung up before he got three sentences out.

"She said she looked in the bag, she saw it was a bomb. She said she couldn't let them do it, that she's going to make it safe," he murmured, then his bewilderment turned to understanding, "Safe. She'll be going to the Heads." The ocean.

I rang Jackson as Bhask drove, telling him to meet us at the Heads. The phone rang as I hung up.

"Hello?"

"Flame." It was Blackheath, sounding unnerved.

"Bhask's driving, he can't talk. We think Maddy has a bomb."

"That's not the problem. It's much bigger than she thinks. She has to get it away from the city."

"She is."

"Ok. I have to go," he said then after a minute, "be careful."

"Alright," I said, but the line was already dead.

Bhask slammed on the breaks at the locked gate leading into the scrub of the Heads, and from there we ran. The scraggy bushland was not much impediment to running. Maddy had a good headstart, but she was encumbered with the bag; we could catch her if there was enough time. But who knew how much time we had? Maybe we should be running in the other direction. How big is much bigger than she thinks?

But Bhask had sprinted after her and I could only follow.

"Maddy!" Bhask shouted. I just saw her blonde head far ahead through the trees, turned as she lugged the bag further away from us.

"Maddy get away from it! It's too dangerous!"

"He'll kill me anyway, Bhask. He'll never let me go."

"Maddy no please!"

"Bhask!" I grabbed him and tried to hold him back, but he was stronger than me now, and desperate. He'd almost struggled from my death grip and ran to her. It was only Jackson's weight knocking us to the ground that saved him.

The force of the explosion tumbled us across the ground like litter on a windy day, as if we were no heavier than the leaves and branches around us. The energy of the blast vibrated through my limbs, shuddered trough my head. Sandwiched between the two of them, I got off lightest. When the air cleared, Jackson and Bhask fell away from me limply like empty shells. I shouted at them silently, pressing my fingers to their necks. Strong regular pulses. Just unconscious.

"Thank god," I breathed, and froze when no sound came out. Then noticed the whole world had lost its voice. The silence was overpowering. Even the thud of my heart inside my skull, desperate to get out, was only a palpable feeling in the silence. I saw the blood trickling from Bhask's ears and touched the matching trails in mine. I clapped my hands: nothing. My hearing was gone.

The blast had forced dirt and stones through their clothes and into their skin, and blood welled up around each wound sickeningly fast. Bhask's ribs were spongey when I tried to press on a chest wound to stop the bleeding, and my hands flew off him in fright, imaging the sharp slivers of bone poking into the precious organs inside. Who knows how many other bones were broken, what else was torn apart in there. I hardly dared touch them; I had to get them help. But there was no way I could move them. I could only hope that help would find us quickly enough. I glanced towards the road while I ripped shredded clothing into strips to bind arms and legs. That much blood could at least be saved. A hand on my shoulder made me jump: the Healers. I hadn't heard them coming. They talked at me like in a silent film, and I shook my head, trying to stand, get out of their way, give them room for Bhask and Jackson. But I collapsed straight away: I hadn't thought to check my own legs. It looked as if they would need attention too, I thought hazily as the pain began to register and the Healers took me away.

***

I woke, gratefully for once, in a Healing Centre. Another for my collection. My injuries, simple traumas, had been quickly healed. Just putting back the pieces, after all. My hearing was thankfully as good as new.

Jackson was already awake and eager to get back to work, follow up his leads on sources of the terror in the Soul-free zone. Mentally, he had bounced back already. But he hadn't lost anyone. Bhask would take more time. But we had all the time in the world now.

I read the newspapers in saddened, weary leisure. The main hydro dam had burst, the Seekers suspected a human attack, and irrigation would be set back for years. I thought of Yanni and his trees, his fields slowly dying of thirst. Other explosions in other cities, a mass shooting in Griffin square… Alex had rung to say Dorsey had been hurt. So much for being safer in Blackheath's territory. So much for the ceasefire. Now, Peace day would be synonymous with violence. People were fleeing the country, jamming onto planes so frantically they had ordered special refugee flights, no ID required.

Alex brought Yash into see me, driving up. I made Bhask get out of bed when they arrived, and we walked down to the park. He had been silent about Maddy, silent about the whole day. He hadn't even thanked Jackson for saving him. I guessed he didn't feel very saved.

"Bhask, go take Yash to see the ducks," I asked. He would do it for her, I knew, even if he had no desire to do anything for himself. But I couldn't have him staring at the wall, as much as he might want to. I knew what that was like, and I wasn't going to indulge him. It was not something you should get used to.

We watched them approaching the pond, Yash running ahead and then back to him, like a dog, trying to get him to go faster, Bhask eventually smiling at her entreaties. He could smile then. That was something. Losing your love wasn't the end of his world after all. He would find a way to live.

I looked at Alex, trying to keep my questions away, hide the anxiousness that plagued me. But he met my eyes and pulled me into his arms, waiting quietly for whatever it was that kept me slightly tense even there.

"Alex, I need you to tell me something," I said finally.

"Anything," he murmured.

"I need you to tell me about Hawthorne."

Silence. _Anything but that_, I could hear him thinking. But he kept his word.

"I hate her," he said, his voice low and robotic.

"Do you hate her because she left you?"

He turned to look at me, stunned.

"No!" his eyes searched mine. "I hate her because she's an evil psychotic bitch." There was no disbelieving the vehemence of his words. But were they the words of a jilted lover? I couldn't tell. And I couldn't find a way to ask.

He could see the uncertainty in my eyes and pulled me closer, holding me so close I couldn't see his face.

"She terrifies me, Flame," he said, his voice small, like I'd never heard before. And though I had been able to love him, deep down, even when he terrified me, I understood that this fear left no room for anything else. Hate was only an afterthought. He hated the way she made him feel. But for the person herself, there was the most all consuming fear, the kind that hollowed you out completely. This I knew was the truth.

I hugged him back as long as my arms could hold out.

"Ok," I whispered.

He left again that night. He was taking Dorsey to a clinic in the Soul-free zone, so Blackheath could see her. Yash was to stay with me, with Bhask. As much I hated the idea of Alex going into the Soul-free zone, I knew I had to let him go.

"Just til Dorsey's better," he whispered as I hugged him goodbye that evening. Then I'll come right back. Promise."


End file.
